


Dead Enders

by SoftServe



Category: South Park
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 15:19:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftServe/pseuds/SoftServe
Summary: For the longest time Tweek has seen things, lurking just beyond view. Nobody believed him. Nobody cared. But as the ghosts of his past come back to haunt him, and his world starts to unravel, Tweek can feel that something has changed. Whatever is out there, lost in the dark, has started seeing him too.





	Dead Enders

Tweek inhaled, smoke burning at the edges of his lungs as nicotine smoothed the jagged points of his nerves. He swung a foot back and forth, paying little mind to the drop from the roof. Exhaling, Tweek allowed his hand to drop back to the roof’s sloping surface. Fingers grazed against others, pulling back for a moment before relaxing as those fingers slid into and around his own. Dummy, Tweek thought, just take the cig before you waste it. As if hearing the very words he’d just thought he felt the cigarette plucked from his fingers. He turned slightly and watched smoke from the cigarette rise lazily in front of the other blonde’s face.  
Kenny shot him a grin, wider on its right side and barely touching his left, “something on ya mind Tweekers?”  
Opening his mouth, Tweek let Kenny put the cigarette between his lips. The boy tasted of dirt, after all this time though it was more comfort than displeasure. “You think we’re ever getting out of this dead end town?”  
The laugh was soft; soft and more than a little sad, “nah Tweekers,” Kenny replied, looking out into the woods over Tweek’s shoulder. “They will; Craig and Stan and all the rest of ‘em,” he sighed before returning his gaze to Tweek, “it’s like ya said this is a dead end town, it keeps the dead enders.”

Slowly Tweek lowered himself to lay on his back, the roof’s cold touch reaching through his shirt despite the summer night. Fingers worked hard at the cigarette packet stuffed in his jean pocket. Dead Ender, memories were clawing at the edge of his mind and he felt himself start twitching. That old habit. Each time he managed to stop, however briefly, he hoped it would be for good. It never was. With a noise that bordered between panic and victory Tweek yanked a cigarette, now slightly crumpled, from his pocket. Pulling his legs up from over the side of the roof, while rolling onto his side, he flicked the stick of tobacco up and down with his teeth, his typical gesture for Kenny to light it. Falling onto his side with much less grace than Tweek, Kenny held the lighter out, just beyond the cigarette. As Tweek was forced to shuffle progressively closer he placed one of his own cigarettes in his mouth. Kenny flicked the igniter only when Tweek was close enough so that both cigarettes were lit at once.  
Feeling his nerves returning to normal Tweek let out a smoke filled laugh through teeth that refused to open, lest the calm he inhaled in desperation fell from his reach. “I could’ve done it, you know I could have Ken,” he said with a fragile undertone.  
“Sure, but that was when ya were ten,” Kenny exhaled, trying to avoid blowing smoke straight into Tweek’s face. “Nothin’s been the same for ya since.”  
Tweek huffed, “it’s been eight years now though, come on, surely I-”  
“If ya could get outta here then why are ya on this roof with me?”

For a while the two boys just lay there, inhaling nicotine like it wouldn’t end. But it did, and Kenny’s ended first. So he spat it out, and watched as the faint light from the embers flickered through the night air before disappearing over the side of the roof. He wet his fingers with saliva as Tweek mockingly blew cigarette smoke into his face. With one of his trademark crooked grins Kenny pinched the burning stub of Tweek’s cigarette until it went out, smearing the rapidly cooling ash over Tweek’s lips. Tweek laughed and Kenny kissed him.

Years had passed with the boys doing this. Eight years of Tweek seeking something that resembled comfort in the physicality of Kenny. It didn’t always matter where or even when, though midnight hookups under the stars had become increasingly common over the years. And as the two became entwined Tweek would say the sweetest, kindest things. But even as they left Tweek’s lips they were lies, of that Kenny was sure. Running his hand playfully though Tweek’s hair he decided, like he always did, that it was okay, the two found each other out of convenience. Sometimes that was how the best things were made. Sometimes two friends just got it on while laying on the roof. Wind rustles through the trees.

It had taken him near an hour before he was ready to get off that roof. Kenny had gone inside some time before that, and now he stood across the street from a long abandoned Sodasopa shop. That empty yet content feeling still gnawed at his guts, and he felt vaguely as though an inch thick layer of dirt had coated him while he had been laying there. Tweek always felt as if eyes were on him when he stood here. More than usual. Eyes always followed him. So did the shadows. And the things kept inside them. But here it was different. Worse. Over the years, and hundreds of therapy appointments, it was drilled into him that nothing he saw was real. Sometimes he was able to believe it. But never here. It felt like there was always a hand kept just an inch above his shoulder, that shallow breathing and footsteps were carried on every gust of wind.

Screaming tore him out of his paranoid thoughts. Terrified screaming. A child’s scream. Tweek knew there was only one child anywhere near enough for him to hear that awful a scream. Karen. Tweek’s stomach wrapped around itself, consumed by anxiety worse than any he’s felt in years. Cold air whipped past him in a harsh breeze tugging one of the pins from his hair. He ran. He ran faster than he felt he ever had. The wind seemed possessed, intent on stopping him. But he didn’t stop, not until he reached Kenny’s house. Before he could stop himself his fist was banging on the door. After what felt like an eternity, but was likely less than a minute, the door swung open.

Kenny’s mum stood in the doorway, un-moving, eyes red with moist tracks running down her cheeks. “Who are-,” she caught herself, but Tweek could hear the tears she was fighting back. “Kenny’s fuck buddy, shoulda known you’d be close by,” there was an undertone to her voice, exhaustion, exhaustion and something else. “Get in, come on.” With that she stepped to one side and let Tweek inside. He never noticed the way she had looked over his shoulder, as if staring at something, the entire time she spoke.

The entire house was muted. Everything lacked colour. To Tweek it looked as though a grey mass had replaced the drab olive wallpaper. Crying rolled out from the kitchen. He knew it was Karen and part of his heart broke for her. Foreboding rolled down the stairs as Carol walked back to the kitchen. Walking towards the stairs it almost looked as though the carpet was sprouting mold, or that the corners were folding up, ripping more with each step he took. Tweek shook his head, it’s just the light its just the light, the words rung over and over in his head with every footfall. He called out Kenny’s name, softly; the lack of a reply didn’t surprise him. The fact it didn’t surprise him hit like a punch in the gut. He wished it surprised him. More than that he wished he hadn’t seen what was in Kenny’s room.

Glass covered the floor, shattered inwards from the window. It was everywhere. More than seemed possible. The bed, carpet and desk all had jagged shards resting on them. Kenny was the worst, but the glass didn’t lay on him. It had been rammed into him, stabbing upwards from his body. Vicious lacerations covered his skin, visible through tears in his clothing. Blood, a deeper red than Tweek had ever seen, continued to leak from the wounds. A red trail lead from Kenny’s body and out the window.  
With trembling steps Tweek made his way to the far too still body of his friend. Somehow he managed it before his knees gave out, he could feel the glass slice through his jeans and into his skin as he hit the floor. He didn’t care. Glass carved deep into the palm of his right hand as he lifted the body into a tight embrace. Wet tearing sounded throughout the room as Tweek’s body pushed the shards of glass deeper into Kenny’s chest. His tears were staining the dead boys shirt as surely as the blood was staining Tweek’s own. There was so much of it Tweek didn’t think it would ever stop.  
He placed his had on Kenny’s cheek, leaving a red hand-print, “I loved yo-.” Tweek couldn’t finish the sentence before the world turned itself off and all he knew was darkness.


End file.
